


Two/Fourteen

by KareliaSweet



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 13:25:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9736271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KareliaSweet/pseuds/KareliaSweet
Summary: Snapshots of Murder Husband Valentine's Days throughout the years.





	

Will wakes up barefoot on his roof. On the roof, at his feet, is a small box wrapped in deep red velvet. Winston barks at him and Will blinks twice. He crawls in through the window and draws himself a warm bath. He opens the box. Inside are four handcrafted dark chocolates. The first is filled with sweet liqueur, and it splashes onto his tongue. He has to lick his fingers. The second tastes of blood orange. The third is exotic, some sort of spice that shouldn’t go with the taste but just does. And the fourth has intricate latticework piped on top, spirals that cut into odd angles - they look almost like antlers. He bites into it and the chocolate is rich but bittersweet. The taste is familiar, something on the tip of his tongue that he can’t quite place, but he savours it, lets it melt, lets the chocolate go sticky on the pad of his thumb before he sucks it slowly off.

He falls asleep in the bathtub. When he wakes up the chocolate box is gone. It must have been a dream.

-x-

Hannibal cooks roast goose with plum sauce. They don’t talk about what day it is. The wine he pours for them is from the very back of the cellar - a rare and expensive vintage. Will knows this because Hannibal had shown it to him once. There are only two bottles of its kind, Hannibal had said, I am saving them for an exquisite occasion. Will drinks from his glass slowly, his eyes on Hannibal’s as Hannibal watches the muscles of his throat.

After dinner, Hannibal serves Cuban rum cake. He asks Will to cut the first slice and stands behind him, his eyes on the knife and its glint as Will presses slowly down. Will serves himself a plate and hands the knife back to Hannibal, blade first.

They take drinks in the study, and talk. Will stays until two in the morning. For the last half hour they sit in a silence that is thick with unspoken desires. When Hannibal walks Will to the door, he hands him his coat, and his nose brushes the back of Will’s neck as he helps him into it.

“Smelling me again?” Will jokes, but it doesn’t sound like a joke. It sounds hopeful.

Hannibal runs his hands down the outside of Will’s arms, smoothing the coat in place.

“Good night, Will.”

-x-

The card arrives with no postmark, but Will knows the elegant script on the envelope - he’d know it anywhere.

The front of the card is blank, it’s a thick ivory stock that’s clearly expensive but that’s all Will can glean from it. Inside are three words.

_Thinking of you._

After Hannibal is sent away (and that’s what Will calls it, only to himself, because he was the one that sent Hannibal away and then they took him they weren’t supposed to take him) he expects he won’t receive another card.

He is wrong.

They come, every year. The same damn card stock. He learns to check the mail first after he gets married. Molly doesn’t know about the padded envelope he keeps in the bottom of his shirt drawer. At least, he hopes she doesn’t.

-x-

Hannibal takes them dancing. They drink first, at a hole-in-the-wall bar that makes a mean mojito and has Will’s favourite whiskey. Will teases Hannibal for bringing his own mint to the bar, but they come there often enough that the owner finds it charming rather than a nuisance.

Hannibal takes them to a club and pulls Will into the darkest corner he can find. He slots their hips together and begins to grind. Will melts in it, like he’s melted into everything since he fell through the ocean and came out the other side. Sweat begins to lick through the thin cotton of their shirts and sticks them together. Hannibal swoops forward, catching Will in an open-mouthed kiss that’s all fire and heat. Will clings and grabs, buzzing with drink and dark. Hannibal pushes the evidence of his arousal into Will’s hip.

“Let’s get out of here,” Will says into Hannibal’s mouth.

Hannibal shakes his head. “No.”

He pushes Will against the wall and his fingers fly straight for the button of Will’s trousers. He flicks it open one-handed and tugs down the zipper. Will exhales, warm and damp against Hannibal’s neck.

“Here?”

Hannibal kisses his throat.

“Here.”

True to his word, he sinks to his knees and takes Will into his mouth right there in the club. They’re shadowed enough that no one can see, but Will feels spikes of electric thrill light up his spine at the illicitness of it all. His fingers sink into Hannibal’s hair, longer again and dyed a sandy brown. It’s soft and just the right length for him to twist around his fingers and pull. So he does.

Hannibal moans. Will comes. It’s sudden and it surprises him so much he cries out, then smacks a hand over his mouth. Hannibal stands and swallows visibly. Will watches the muscles of his throat. There’s one small pearlescent drop at the corner of Hannibal’s mouth, and Will licks it off, which turns into a kiss, which turns into Will palming and squeezing Hannibal through his trousers, encouraging him with filthy words until he comes.

On the way home they stop at an all-night cafe. Hannibal buys them medianoches and they bite into them. They’re hot and fresh and delicious. Hannibal leans forward to wipe a smear of mustard from Will’s chin.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, mi amante.”

Will ducks his head and bites Hannibal’s thumb.

“The best one yet.”

The card is waiting for Will on the table when they get home.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [lovecrimevariations](http://lovecrimevariations.tumblr.com)


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